A Good Thing
by starbuckmeggie
Summary: Filling in the blanks
1. Chapter 1

"You know what I've always wondered?"

"What's that?"

"Why you put up so many Christmas decorations when you're Jewish?"

I chuckle and adjust myself so that I'm sitting more comfortably against Chandler's chest as we're propped up against my headboard. "That's a silly thing to ask," I tease.

"Well, I'm a silly guy. But I still wonder about it." He threads his fingers through my hair and massages my scalp, and I can feel goosebumps rise all over my skin. I pull my quilt more firmly around us and tilt my face up to kiss his neck.

"Would you believe it's as simple as that I like Christmas decorations?"

"Really? That's it?"

"Yep. I didn't grow up feeling deprived of Christmas; I was always invited to Rachel's for the holiday, and she usually came over for Hanukah. This whole time of the year is just so cheery and festive that I like to spread it around. Plus, I just like Christmas decorations more."

"Huh." He seems genuinely surprised by this revelation. "Who knew it'd be something so simple? Here I'd put aside hours to discuss some childhood trauma, and all it is is one of your adorable quirks. Whatever shall we do with all that spare time? I know!" He answers himself before I have a chance to even chime in, so I can only imagine what he's up to. "Let's make out!"

I let out a loud laugh as pushes me over and pounces on top of me, silencing me with a kiss. I enjoy the moment before giving his shoulder a gentle push. "Chandler! We have to be quiet."

He rolls his eyes playfully. "Well, that's what I was trying to do. Can you think of any other reason why I would kiss you like that?" Again, he doesn't bother waiting for a response before sealing his lips to mine, and for a few minutes, I am lost.

I finally regroup long enough to pull away again. "Seriously, though, Rachel's going to be home soon."

"What are you talking about? It's the middle of the afternoon."

"No, it _was_ the middle of the afternoon. Now it's after five."

Puzzled, he cranes his neck to look at my bedside clock, as if I would lie to him about something like how much time we have together. "How'd that happen?"

I grab his face and redirect his attention to me. "Time flies when you play hooky from work to spend quality naked time with your girlfriend."

He smiles before kissing me once more, then rolling off of me. "So," he says, grabbing my hand and twining our fingers together. "Our first holiday season together."

I bring his hand to my lips and gently kiss his knuckles. "Sure is."

"What do you think we'll do for the holidays next year?"

I work very hard to keep my breathing even; Chandler is talking about our future. I know even tiptoeing around the subject of us being together somewhere down the line usually freaks him out, so I really don't want to make a big deal out of it. Still, though, knowing that he's thinking about us still being an us a year from now makes me feel giddy.

Instead, I concentrate on our interlocked fingers and try to keep my voice as casual as possible. "Don't know. Same thing we did last year? Same thing we're doing this year?"

"But that means nothing. We're going to continue to do nothing? We should go somewhere like, I don't know, the Bahamas. Christmas on the beach with a drink in my hand and my girl at my side sounds like paradise to me."

I let go of his hand and turn into him, pressing a kiss to his shoulder, trying to hide my face because I know that I won't be able to disguise how excited this discussion is making me. "That sounds amazing, but you're forgetting something?"

"Sunblock?"

"That, and I work in restaurant."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Well, I don't know if you've noticed, but New York City gets pretty crazy during the holiday season. Restaurants get busier. It can be next to impossible for a chef to take a vacation during that time of year."

"But you're the head chef. Doesn't that count for anything?"

"Not as much as you might think. It really only means that I'm the one least likely to get a vacation."

"Well that blows."

He sounds so disappointed that I have to laugh. "Yeah, it can. But I don't know that there's any place in the world I'd rather be at Christmas than New York. I'm sure there's somewhere around here that would supply you with a tropical drink. There may not be warm sand, but it's not the worst option."

"Eh. As long as we get to spend it together, I guess it doesn't really matter where we are."

That may be the most profound thing I've ever heard from Chandler, and honestly, it freaks me out a bit. Instead of answering, I lift my head to look at the clock and groan. "It's almost six. Rachel really will be home soon. You have to get dressed."

"What if I don't want to?"

I shrug as I start to dig through the pile of clothing at the foot of my bed and begin to toss his clothes at him. "Your call. You know, Rachel finding out about us _would_ be the fastest way to spread the news to the group…"

I don't even have to finish that sentence before Chandler's grabbing his clothes and pulling them on. He doesn't get very far before I hear Rachel's key in the lock; our eyes widen comically as I grab my bathrobe and cover myself. "Get dressed and be ready to run," I whisper. I tighten the sash on my robe and hurry out to the living room to meet Rachel.

*A/N….So, a couple of things. People keep saying I should put all of these into one story. To that, I say nay. Not gonna do it. I kind of like them all separate. I only intended to ever write just one or two, and I realize it's becoming much more than that; however, I like these little moments being stand alone—they all do work together, but that might not always be the case. Plus, I've got a few chapter twos in the works, so, for me, it's just easier to keep it this way. Sorry if that comes across as rude or cantankerous, but that's the situation with my little world. But seriously—thank you to all of you for the support. Your reviews are wonderful and have been wonderful for my battered ego. You're all wonderful!


	2. Chapter 2

"Whose idea was it to sit outside in December in New York?" I ask, clutching my rapidly cooling hot chocolate close to my face, trying to keep warm.

"Yours, genius," Monica answers, and I look over to see that she's doing the same. Though actually, I'm not completely cold—my right side is pressed firmly against Monica's left, so there is a part of me that's quite toasty. And, because we're idiots, we each had removed the gloves from those hands so we could hold hands.

A little frostbite in my fingertips is worth it for this moment.

It didn't take much convincing on my part to get Monica to come out with me today. The holidays bring more togetherness with our friends and our families, but it leaves a lot less time for the two of us to be together. She and Ross have been back and forth to Long Island to spend Hanukkah with their family—between that and her hectic work schedule, I've hardly seen her for the last week. Not that I begrudge her time with her family; I've just missed her.

But, we have two days between the end of Hanukkah and Christmas Eve, and she said she wanted to spend as much of that time as possible with me. Still…I don't know that people watching in Central Park was my greatest idea.

"We can go if you're too cold," I tell her.

"Nah. This is actually kind of fun. Besides, anywhere we try to go now will be insanely crowded. It's too close to Christmas for anything that's in an enclosed space to be manageable."

"Yeah, watching all of these out-of-towners go nuts _is_ pretty entertaining."

Even though it's freezing cold, this day is perfect. There's a clean layer of snow covering the park for now, the air has that electric quality that you just know means more snow, and the woman of my dreams is bundled up next to me, taking time out of her genuinely busy schedule to just sit and do nothing.

"This was on my Christmas list, you know," I say suddenly.

"You have a Christmas list? Aren't you a little…you know…old for that?"

"Hey, if you don't make a list, how will Santa know what to bring you?"

"Can't argue with that kind of logic," Monica answers, her voice dripping with sarcasm, which makes me a little proud. She was never this sarcastic before me. The last couple of months have been great for sharpening her wit. "But what exactly was on this list?"

"All I wanted was to be able to spend a few hours of uninterrupted time with you." I kiss her temple. "Pretty silly, huh?"

Instead of answering, she leans into me and presses a kiss to my lips. I bring our joined hands up to my chest, holding them against my heart. I abandon my already-cold hot chocolate on the bench beside me and wrap my free arm around her, pulling her closer.

Our kiss ends, but we keep our foreheads pressed together, and I can see her smiling. "Doesn't seem that silly to me. I mean, seeing how Santa actually delivered…"

"Best Christmas present ever," I answer, kissing her once more.

"Oh, really? Guess I can return that stuff I bought you."

"Fine by me."

She pulls back a little, looking me in the eye quizzically. "I was kidding."

"I'm not," I say, shrugging casually. "All I wanted this year was you. I don't need anything else."

She clears her throat—a little uncomfortably, if I'm not mistaken. It's nice that I can keep her on her toes. "I'm going to pretend you aren't being incredibly sappy and sentimental and keep your presents under the tree. Sound good?"

"Out of curiosity, will there be any gifts under the tree that I won't be able to open in front of our friends?"

"Nope." The disappointment on my face must be obvious because she starts to laugh. "I thought you said I was all you needed this year."

"Yeah, but you said there were going to be presents anyway. You're sending me mixed signals, Mon."

"Regardless, there will be nothing under the tree that you can't open in front of everyone. But it's possible there may be a gift or two hidden in strategic locations that you can open later in the day."

"Will one of those presents be skimpy and already under your clothes?"

"Don't you want any surprises?"

A huge smile breaks out over my face as my imagination kicks into overdrive. "Oh, my God, is it? Are you one of my presents? Do I get to unwrap you?"

"Is that all you think about—sex?" Despite the words, her tone is teasing and there is laughter in her eyes.

"No. That's not _all_ I think about. Besides, thinking about sex sounds too generic. I think about sex with _you_ all the time because sex with _you_ is fantastic. Sex with other people, not so much."

"Well, there's a slight possibility that there will be something from the naughty list waiting for you."

"Hot damn!" I'm now bouncing in my seat, already anxious for Christmas night.

"You've seen me in naughty lingerie before," she reminds me.

"So sue me. It excites me every time. My girlfriend is hot and a little bit of a freak. Life is good."

Monica shifts a little closer to me on the bench and I can practically feel the change in her mood. "Rachel's gonna be at work for a while. What do you say we go home and arrange a little…fashion show?"

My throat grows dry and I'm pretty sure my pupils dilate to cartoon proportions. "That would be nice."

"Only nice?" she whispers into my ear, her tongue grazing the edge. The goosebumps that breakout all over my body have nothing to do with the cold weather. When her gloved hand slides into my jacket and starts to stroke my stomach, I jump nearly a foot into the air.

"It would be very, very nice." My voice has dropped several octaves, and I know we need to get somewhere private _fast_. I stand up quickly, dragging Monica with me, and head to the nearest exit.

As I'm trying to hail a cab, Monica says, very casually, "It's possible that I'm wearing something a little naughty right now."

I feel my knees buckle slightly. "Are you trying to kill me?"

"Just making conversation."

"I think you're trying to make my head explode."

I bounce from one foot to the other, anxiously waiting for a cab to stop for us when she says, "Wanna see?"

My head whips around, my eyes wide. "Excuse me?"

The smile on her face is devilish, and I know there's no way I can resist her. "Do you want a little preview?" Before I can answer, she gives a quick glance to her left and right to see if anyone is paying attention, then lets go of my hand for the first time all day. She grabs the top of her sweater and pulls it away from her body, enough for me to be able to look right down the front. I take a step forward and tilt my head down. I can't see much from this angle, though it appears there isn't much to see. What's there looks lacy and skimpy and I feel all of the blood rush out of my head.

I start flailing my arm like a mad man and, mercifully, a taxi pulls over. As we slide in, Monica's hand finds mine once more, and I can only pray that this will be a very quick ride.


	3. Chapter 3

I take a final look in the bathroom mirror, making sure everything is in place. I give my outfit a couple of tugs, smooth down a few stray hairs, then pull my bathrobe over the whole package and tighten the sash. I take a deep breath, then put my hand on the doorknob and pause.

I don't know why I feel so nervous right now. Chandler and I have been doing this for months. I can't even blame my nerves on Rachel being home because, again, Chandler and I have been doing this for months. Rachel is a fairly heavy sleeper, and we've gotten pretty good at keeping the volume down when we know she's around.

Maybe it's because, of all the things I could have gotten Chandler for Christmas, I decided that essentially wrapping myself up in a bow and presenting myself to him was the way to go. Not that he's complaining, but I also don't think he's reading as much into it as I am. He probably doesn't see this as some symbolic gesture; it's very likely I'm the only one who is looking at this gift as me actually giving myself to him in some sort of deep, emotional way. He's probably just really excited to be getting a scantily-clad girl for Christmas.

I shake my head and sigh, and open the door. Even though it's late and Rachel's room has been quiet for hours, I sneak across the living room to my bedroom. I open the door just enough so that I can slide through and ease it shut behind me.

Chandler is already on my bed, wearing a flannel shirt and snowman pajama pants, socks covering his mutilated-by-Monica feet. Probably not the outfit that most women would consider sexy, but to me he's adorable. Besides—I don't plan on him wearing much of anything for very long.

I try my hardest to strike an alluring pose and, in what I hope is a sexy voice, say quietly, "So, Chandler…have you been naughty or nice?"

He looks over at me and starts to bounce up and down, a huge grin spreading across his face. "Naughty! So very naughty!"

I take the few steps over to my bed and he reaches for me eagerly. I bat his hands away. "What's your rush?"

He looks at me incredulously. "Well, I'm kind of pitching a tent over here, Mon," he answers, glancing down at his lap.

"Yeah, well, it took me a long time to get into this thing. You might want to savor the moment."

His breath hitches a bit, and I know he's now even more intrigued about what's underneath my robe. He scoots over to the edge of the bed and reaches for me once more, a bit more calmly this time, and I go into his arms willingly. I lace my hands together at the back of his neck and smile down at him, and the way he's looking at me almost makes me come undone. Before I can say something to ruin the moment, I lean down and kiss him.

His hands gently massage my hips and my knees start to shake a little. He reaches in between us and fumbles with the sash of my robe for a moment before it comes undone. I release his lips and take a step back, letting the robe slide off my shoulders, trying desperately to look sexy and confident as my heart rate triples.

Chandler's mouth drops open as he stares at me for a good thirty seconds before he manages to find words once more. "God, Monica," he breathes. "You look…wow."

I feel a shy grin pull at my lips. "Really?"

"I…I just…I don't…you…wow."

I'm wearing this deep, Christmas-green teddy concoction that leaves almost nothing to the imagination. But the best part is that the entire thing is held together by tiny red ribbons. It really did take forever to get into—it's really hard tying ribbons on yourself, it turns out, at least ones that come all the way up your sides—but the moment I saw it, I knew that he would literally be able to unwrap me. Just the thought of it turned me on so much I could hardly stand it, so I could only imagine what Chandler's reaction would be. He didn't disappoint.

"Merry Christmas, baby."

He says nothing. Instead, he reaches up and pulls my lips back down to his, kissing me deeply. I melt into him, no longer nervous about his reaction.

His lips travel slowly down to my neck, then across to my shoulder. "So," he mumbles against my skin. "When do I get to open my present?"

"It's yours, Chandler. You can do what you want with it."

He pulls back to look at me, a glint I don't recognize in his eyes. Without breaking eye contact, he runs his hands up and down my thighs, making me shiver. He leans forward and presses a kiss to my naval, an erogenous zone of mine he's discovered all on his own. "Sounds promising," he whispers against my stomach. "I think I'll take my time with it."

My breath catches in my throat as he tugs at the lowest set of ribbons, his fingertips sliding under the edge of the teddy, sliding gently over the backs of my legs. He moves to the next set of ribbons and releases those as well, his hands gliding up a little higher, teasing me, his eyes never leaving mine.

This is intense. Sustained eye contact during sex has never been my strong suit; it feels too intimate, and I usually have to find some form of distraction. It turns out that Chandler is very much into eye contact. He says that it makes the connection stronger, and is he ever right. But I'm determined that tonight I won't look away.

His hands inch up again, and my body is on high alert. When I bought this outfit, I was only thinking about how he'd react to it. I never considered that it would do as much for me as would for him. I also never suspected that he would draw it out this way.

His hands are magic.

The ribbons up to my ribcage have been untied. So tenderly, he moves the fabric to the side and drags his lips from the curve of my hip up the underside of my breast, and I realize that the soft noises filling the room are coming from me. He's still fully clothed, and I'm ready to come apart in his hands. He moves to my other side, giving it the same treatment, and my fingers dig into his shoulders.

I don't know how long I can hang on.

He pushes back on the bed a bit, pulling me with him, my knees straddling his hips, and I bite my lip at the contact. He slides his hands through my hair, pulling my face to his for another kiss, and this time I hear him moan. His fingers thread through the hair at the nape of my necks and give a little tug that causes goosebumps to rise all over my body.

Without warning, he shifts his focus back to the lingerie and my head spins. He undoes another set of ribbons, this time leaning forward to kiss the tops of my breasts. Involuntarily, my eyelids shut as my eyes roll back in my head, my head falling back, and abruptly, his lips leave me completely.

"Look at me, Mon," he whispers. "Please."

I swallow heavily and bring my face back to his, opening my eyes once more.

"I know it's hard for you," he continues. "And if it gets to be too much, you can look away. But remember—it's just me. I won't let anything happen to you."

Tears spring to my eyes and I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to keep myself in check. He knows me so well—he gets all of my insecurities. That's why what we have is so amazing, and why it's so scary at the same time.

He brings his hands up to my face and his thumbs gently wipe away the tears. I give him a shaky smile. "I'm okay." I give him a quick kiss. "I'm okay."

His hands drift down to my shoulders and he releases the ribbons there—all that's left are two tiny ribbons under my armpits, barely holding the teddy up and together. Before he can make another move, I grab the bottom of his shirt pull it up his body and over his head. The feel of the lace I'm wearing against his bare skin is enough to make us both groan.

He wastes no more time untying the ribbons, and before I know what's happening, I've been flipped onto my back, Chandler hovering over me, the lacy material that took me so long to get into now a ball in the corner of my room. He positions himself on top of me, kissing me hungrily, his hands touching as much of me as he can. He grabs my legs and wraps them around his waist, then groans when he realizes his pajama pants still separate us.

Breathing heavily, he meticulously kisses his way down my body, and I clutch at my quilt as I desperately try to remain quiet.

All of a sudden, his mouth is on me and, if he didn't have a hold of my hips, I probably would have flown off the bed. I quickly grab a pillow and shove it over my face, trying to muffle myself, my heart almost hammering out of my chest, stars exploding behind my eyelids.

I can only handle a few minutes of this sweet torture before I fling the pillow off my face and grab his hand, trying to get his attention. "Chandler!" I whisper frantically, barely keeping myself composed. He chooses to ignore me, but keeps his eyes locked on mine, which is both unnerving and so unbearably hot. I pinch his arm this time. "Chandler, stop."

He moves his mouth a fraction, now kissing my inner thighs. "Why?"

"Because I don't think I can take this right now." I really don't. My body is trembling so hard right now I feel like I'll fly apart. There's something about the combination of the sustained eye contact, the intensity of my feelings for him, and not being able to express it that's just too much.

"You sure?" He mumbles. "I know how much you like this." Bastard has me there—I do like it. A lot. But still…too intense. If he wants me to look him in the eyes the entire time, it can't be while doing that.

"Yeah." I reach down and run a hand through his hair. "I need you inside of me," I whisper.

That gets his attention. He loves when I talk dirty, even if it's only mildly dirty. He stands up and pulls down his pajama pants and crawls on top of me once more. I pull his face down to mine and kiss him hungrily. I can tell by the way he's kissing me back that, if left to his own devices, the foreplay could go on for hours. That's one of the best things about him when it comes to sex—he's so eager to please that I'm usually pretty revved up by the time we ever get to actually having sex.

"Chandler," I whisper into his ear, biting down on his lobe. "Make love to me."

He groans and pushes himself inside of me, and I only have a moment to panic—I try to avoid asking him to make to love me because I don't know if that's the sort of thing that will make him freak out—before I can't bring myself to care. He certainly doesn't seem bothered by it.

I have another moment of panic when I realize we didn't use a condom before I remember that I'm back on the pill. I did that not long after we started dating, mostly for moments like this when a condom is the furthest thing from our minds.

It takes me a moment to realize that he's not moving, and that's when I realize my eyes closed once more. I force them open and find him looking at me, patiently. "You all right?" I can tell by the way his body is tensed that it's taking everything he has to hold still. It makes me love him even more—he thinks of me first.

I grin at him crookedly. "I think too much."

"You do."

"Make me stop."

He can't resist a challenge any more than I can. He starts to move slowly; I brace my feet next to his calves and dig my fingers into his shoulder blades.

I lose track of time as he gazes into my eyes—this is an experience that I've managed to completely avoid not only with Chandler, but with anyone else before him. He's always been so understanding about my need to look away, to keep just a little piece of myself, but now...now he's asking for that piece. How can I deny him? Especially when I realize it's been his all along.

In that moment, when I realize that there's nothing to hide, I feel something in me in unwind. Something I hadn't realized I'd been holding back for the last six months. I'm not sure if he feels it, too, but I know I'm more in love with him than ever, and I feel free.

He presses his forehead against mine, the sweat on his brow mixing with my own, our breath coming in short, hard gasps. His right hand slides down my left arm until his fingers lock with mine. I squeeze his hand, letting him know that I'm there, that I'm right there with him. Our movements quicken and I can tell I only have moments left. I'm now desperate to keep this connection, but somehow remember, through the fog that has become my brain, that I still have to keep quiet. With my free, I grab his neck and bring his lips to mine, just in time to stifle the low, primal sounding noise that comes from deep within my soul as my body finally lets go. The same kind of noise comes from Chandler as he drives in to me furiously before collapsing bonelessly on top of me, and I'm pretty sure we both black out for a few moments.

Probably only minutes later, I become self-aware enough to realize Chandler's already about a step ahead of me; he's pressing gentle kisses to my neck and collarbone, his hands gently stroking my sides. I take a deep breath and let out a shuddering sigh. I think that may have been the most profound experience of my life. I wrap my arms around him to keep him close; not only do I still need the contact, but he's acting as a hot water bottle for my rapidly cooling body.

"Thank you," he whispers into my ear. "Thank you for the best Christmas present ever."

I chuckle for a moment before pulls back a little so I can see his face, and I realize he's talking about much more than just the lingerie.

This night definitely didn't go in the direction I originally intended, but I'm pretty damn happy with how it turned out.

I gently stroke his cheek and smile. "You're welcome," I whisper, kissing him once more.

*A/N…That is about as smutty as I can offer. I never even intended to write that, but I received a wonderful review that asked if we'd see what happened Christmas night and *poof* this popped into my head. I'm not even proof-reading it. Reviews save lives, people. Please let me know this wasn't creepy or weird.


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